


Surrogacy

by Davechicken



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Darkfic, F/M, M/M, Unhealthy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9185735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: With Lyra gone, an old flame is all that's left.





	

A man can live without sex. Of course he can. Galen lived many years before sex, and some of them he even wanted to be having it. It’s not like it’s _necessary_. He can jerk himself off in the ‘fresher, if he needs to. Can grab some facial tissues and hand lotion and beat his dick.

…except. He kind of can’t.

He hasn’t been able to pleasure himself since… since… Lyra…

It’s not for want of trying. He’ll wake up hard, and sometimes he’ll stroke his dick to punish himself, but he won’t manage to get all the way to his completion. His penis just doesn’t want to function, and he’ll be left punching his non-dominant fist into the wall to distract himself from the now-flaccid flop in front of him.

He doesn’t… _need_ sex. 

He just. He wishes it was back to how it was? Lyra. His beloved wife. He’d been so happy, ever since they met. He’d never felt that much love for anyone, not until Jyn had been born, and then he’d known a selfless love. Not that his love for Lyra was any less, but his love for Jyn was only protective, only paternal.

He’d had it all. He’d had all he’d _wanted_. His two girls, and a stable enough life. Swapping the challenges of oscillation frequency and ignition for crop rotation and fallow. He’d been _happy,_ but that is all gone, now.

The first time he approaches Krennic, it’s in the middle of one of his tours of the facility. Galen is up in his face, angry and frustrated, and not at all playing the part he should. He’s supposed to (supposed to?) be beaten. That’s the line, isn’t it? Be beaten. Be the broken man. Be resigned to everything. Take solace in your work.

That’s the front he’s trying to portray, but sometimes it just - it gets so _hard_. Seeing a face he once loved, one that turned bitter. They’d been friends with benefits, that was all. They hadn’t been an _item_ (it would have been such a bad idea) and Orson had turned more and more bitter the deeper Galen had fallen in love with Lyra.

But he’d been too blind to see it, or maybe he’d thought that Orson could be the bigger man about it. Wishful thinking. Hoping he could just put the other man aside, and forget any lingering responsibilities to his old lover. He’d been swept up in Lyra, then swept away by Lyra, and then… Orson took her from him.

Well. Lyra refused to let _him_ be taken back, and then…

Yeah.

He’s supposed to be beaten, but he wants to hurt that face, he does. He wants to claw his nails in the lines that the years have drawn on, and he wants to make him bleed and suffer, and that’s… that’s… that’s the him Lyra had made him leave behind. That was the Imperial Erso. That was… pre-Lyra.

Only.

Lyra is gone.

And so they spit out vaguely uncivil things until Krennic orders him out of the lab and into the office. Galen takes the slap to his face, and surges to reply with his own. Lips on his. _Teeth_ on his. Biting him almost bloody, and a growl to _behave_. 

A struggle he knows he’s unarmed for and will lose (because Orson always did know how to play that last, dirtiest trick), and he ends up bent over his own desk, with his legs kicked open. Pants slid down, and they can’t do much more than hump like this. 

Galen tightens his thighs against the cock that slips between them, slamming at his balls and dick as Orson fucks his way between legs, fracking himself furiously to climax. It’s rough, raw, and Galen is embarrassed that he comes, too.

Slumps on the desk, and listens as Orson says something he thinks is pithy, and leaves him to his mess.

Galen waits until the facility has gone to bed before he dares retreat to his room. He sits in the ‘fresher for hours. It isn’t early when he sleeps.

***

That’s how it starts, and how it continues. Galen initiates, and Orson reciprocates. It’s fucked up, and it’s unhealthy, and it’s the only way Galen can get off, now.

Orson starts bringing supplies. He puts a gloved hand over his mouth as he fucks him on the desk. He forces Galen to kneel and pleasure him with his mouth. He spreads his thighs to burning when he goes down on his dick. 

It’s always cut with pain, pain and shame. The shame is all his own, but the pain is shared between them both. 

He wasn’t what Orson wanted. He wasn’t able to be the man he needed, and part of him wonders if he himself would be so miserable if he had managed that?

(But then, no Jyn. No Lyra. And no amount of current discomfort is too great to wish he’d never known them.) 

The visits get more frequent, and then they start to fade.

He’s busy. He’s busy with the weapon, and Galen feels envy for the first time. Envy towards the child they’re nursing together, the one that pulls his… his captor’s attention away from him.

He should feel glad of the freedom to work on his trap-door, but when he wakes and he’s hard and he can’t get it off even to thoughts of white cloaks and black boots… 

He wishes he’d never met Orson Krennic. 

He wishes he’d come back to Eadu, soon.

Galen Erso is weak. He’s weak, but he’ll never beg. That would mean Orson Krennic had won.


End file.
